


Grief's Gaol

by Mthaelly



Series: Extracts of One Poem [1]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Infinity War, Little bit of Avengers, M/M, cry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 05:11:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14709746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mthaelly/pseuds/Mthaelly
Summary: Yet each man kills the thing he lovesBy each let this be heard,Some do it with a bitter look,Some with a flattering word,The coward does it with a kiss,The brave man with a sword!Oscar Wilde.





	Grief's Gaol

_I walked,with other souls in pain,_  
_Within another ring,_  
_And was wondering if the man had done_  
_A great or little thing_  
_When a voice behind me whispered low,_  
_"That fellow's got to swing."_  


He joins the others in a joined mourning for the lives lost. Folds his hand and stands rigid, watching the others, silent and bowed. The stench of grief and outrage hangs thick in the air as the remaining people mourn the dead, gone in a blink; turned to wisps of ash caught aimlessly in the wind. Soft hushes and whispers rises to meet the cold winds, carrying the cries and fury of such sudden departure along with them. Some scream their disbelief to the whistling breeze, gnawing at the cruel blade of death; others quiet, hangs around them a heavy shroud of gloom and grim. Witnessing such wanton death had been hard as the earth and the universe mourns and laments their uncountable dead together in a symphony of sadness and rage. It ripples across the vacuum of space, bringing with it the wallowing cries of the unfairly dead and he can hear their unending anguish ringing loud and clear across the sky.  
  
Death and a madman had dealt an unfair hand unto untold numbers of worlds that day.  
And Thor.  
And Thor wants to murder both and wallow in grief and rage.

Loki is dead, this he knows yet it does comply with his head.  
Loki is dead and Thor wants to let loose his sorrow and his rage.

 _And I and all the souls in pain,_  
_Who tramped the other ring,_  
_Forgot if we ourselves had done_  
_A great or little thing,_  
_And watched with gaze of dull_ amaze  
_The_   _man who_ _had to swing._

The others rarely speak after, the grimness of the situation clawing at their bones. Thor, Thor himself finds he cannot utter a single word without terseness. The others let him be for they too, cannot speak and comfort the latter's grief; for the latter had no words to speak to ease the passing of the former's dead, and  
the former still laced with their own grief.  
So he sits in the wide fields that now ring empty and gives no comfort for himself as he watches the forest around creak.  
He sees the trees that creak and bend. Shine green with their leaves of the evening sun, glittering with blots of gold here and there, illuminating the encompassing forest.  
He sees the sparkling green and thinks of his dead brother.

His dead brother's eyes, that had glimmered a proud flash of green as he runs under the canopy of an autumn's sun soft glow; Thor chasing behind, as Loki had once said with eyes shining in the sunlight.

Thor has one crooked and unsteady eye, along with the one that had shined in that long-gone sun. It fits none. It shines none.

Thor thinks of Loki's eyes, glassy and no longer green with the sheen of death,with a cloud of grime.

His one good eye stutters, and he weeps.

 _And as one sees most fearful things_  
_In the crystal of a dream,_  
_We saw the greasy hempen rope_  
_Hooked to a blackened beam,_  
_And heard the prayer the hangman's snare_  
_Strangled into a scream._

Loki had died, most unceremoniously. Strangled and manhandled into the air,kicking and squirming like a petulant child. But he was not a child, the murderer not a chiding nor benevolent parent; ended his life with the closing of his fist.  
And all the eternities, all those centuries come rolling onto him like a wave.Their first words, their last, and everything in between.  
Things he should have done and things he should not have, careless words, ignorant jabs; the little thought of as if natural dismissal, previously unoticed. He struggles against his bonds as Loki goes limp,goes dead. He dangles like a broken toy from the tyrant's grasp, merciless and cruel. The mistress of Death plunges her black claws into his head, and forces him to watch; every gasp, every choke and every breath.

He crawls to the body of his brother after, bones snapping and heart twisting. Their lives together flashes before him and he thinks he will like to breathe his last beside Loki.

Loki dies, floating, wandering admist a blackened sky.

Thor lives, and looks upon the unreproachful sky.

 _And all the woe that moved him so_  
_That he gave that bitter cry_  
_And the wild regrets, and the bloody sweats,_  
_None knew so well as I :_  
_For he who lives more lives than one_  
_More deaths than one must die._  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Somehow I thought the poem ' The Ballad of Reading Gaol ' would be a nice compliant with my first go.xD


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